


Sure as the Dust

by EllieMurasaki



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Community: spn_bitesized, F/M, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-08-19
Updated: 2010-08-19
Packaged: 2017-10-11 04:00:51
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,058
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/108155
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EllieMurasaki/pseuds/EllieMurasaki
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean keeps wondering what would happen if he let them just fall into each other and never come up for air.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sure as the Dust

**Author's Note:**

  * For [morebutterflys](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=morebutterflys).



> Title from "Kashmir" by Led Zeppelin (let the sun beat down upon my face with stars to fill my dream).

Sam was sixteen, which was either the youngest he could be without Dean's moral compass putting him off-limits due to age or the oldest he could get before Dean's self-control gave out, Dean was never sure which. It had to be Sam's idea, especially at the beginning. And there was a line, somewhere between helping each other get off and having sex with each other, and that line could not be crossed. Why, Dean couldn't put into words; the line's there, that's all. Stay clear.

There were times, so many times, when Dean wanted to. Like when Sam stripped off his shirt after a run, glistening with sweat and looking like every high school gay guy and straight girl's wet dream.

There was something between them, nebulous and undefined, undefinable, something he couldn't let be defined. Kissing Sam would crystallize it, and that might change everything, might destroy everything.

Dean is surprisingly risk-averse.

* * *

Jessica hasn't even been dead a month when Dean starts up with the same stuff he's been teasing Sam with since Sam was fourteen. It's been bothering Sam just as long, but he has words for the concepts now: male gaze, objectification of women. Oh, yes, and in case the thought might have slipped his mind for thirty seconds running: _Jess is dead_. Sam can get by just fine jerking himself off in the shower.

That palls soon enough, though. Always has. Sam isn't really surprised to come out of the bathroom one day and find Dean outside the door, shirtless and eyes dark. Sam drops to his knees, letting the towel fall, and grabs Dean's zipper with his teeth. Dean's hands go to his shoulder and the back of his neck. Sam learned a few tricks at Stanford—he had pretty much the same benefits arrangement with Brady that he'd had with Dean, with bonus nursing Brady through hangovers and emptying his drug stashes, and Brady was creative—and it isn't long before Dean's coming down his throat. Sam stands up, Dean's hands never shifting, and watches Dean for a long moment. There's something in his eyes.

Then Dean pushes Sam back against the wall and strokes him slow and gentle until Sam thinks fuck it and grabs Dean's hand to speed the pace, and while Sam's getting his balance back, Dean heads into the bathroom and shuts the door.

* * *

When Sam leaves, Dean spends half the drive after him working out the exact ratio of punches to kisses. When Dean finds him, that goes out the window, because Sam's got a girl with him, so he's probably doing just fine on the kisses, which means Dean only needs to deliver punches. Then there's the whole sniper rifle and explosives deal, and by the time they're clear Dean's forgotten all about the punches. Sam's grinning at him, though, thinks he's so damn clever and the hell of it is he's right, and if there weren't police cruisers right there Sam would be getting that grin kissed right off his face. Followed by a blowjob, if the kissing didn't do the trick.

* * *

Thirty-eight hours forty-six minutes and Sam has the irresistible urge to grab Dean, wrap him up tight in _Sam_, keep him safe forever. Instead he grabs Dean and drags him out to the Impala. The back seat isn't really big enough for one person their size, never mind two, but Sam makes it work. He sprawls over Dean when they're done, close enough to breathe the same air, and it takes entirely too long to realize that they just spent who knows how long fucking around and not saving Dean. Plenty of time to fuck around later. No time now.

* * *

Alastair brought clarity to a great many things. Dean keeps wondering, especially after Sam admits to fucking around with her, whether Sam would be any saner if Dean let them just fall into each other and never come up for air. He suspects not.

* * *

Dean keeps glancing over at Sam like he expects to find Sam no longer there, and his eyes light up every time they land on him. Maybe every time Dean sees again that this isn't the Sam who was so convinced that the only thing that'd help anyone was for Sam to pin Lilith down and set a self-destruct timer.

Sam isn't selfish enough to lean across the seat and kiss Dean like there's no tomorrow. Dean has never once clearly indicated that all the fucking around they do has anything more behind it than a desire to burn some energy and improve both their moods without spending several hours finding attractive willing women first. But Dean has his _spark_ back, and that's enough to have Sam grinning like an idiot and thinking up celebratory sex fantasies that have him grinning even wider.

* * *

When Sam knocks on Lisa's door, Dean holds on to his higher brain function just long enough to get them to a room with a door that locks. Sam's been remade the way Dean was, and there's all that new skin Dean needs to learn. When they finally surface, there's a note taped to the door: _I'll tell Ben you said goodbye._ Dean's not surprised: she'd never owed him anything, she'd long since repaid whatever she thought she owed, Dean's conception of reality is orthogonal to civilians' and Ben's had far too much exposure to it for someone whose life is in the civilian world, and she and Ben both deserve better. Oh, and the incest thing. That's usually a dealbreaker.

They're an hour out of Cicero, no destination in mind, when Dean pulls over because he can't go another minute without getting his hands on Sam. Three hours after that, Sam stops the car with the power of his mind, and Dean isn't actually capable of freaking out right now, so instead he cons Sam into fucking him with the power of his mind. After that, Sam looks so peaceful asleep that Dean can't bear to wake him, so Dean drives till he runs out of steam and finds a motel with a king bed because letting go of Sam long enough to get the room is enough trouble.

Dean drifts back to wakefulness fourteen hours later and Sam's right there next to him. Dean props himself up on an elbow and kisses Sam awake.


End file.
